


What I Want

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Erotica, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Leaving Feast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-22
Updated: 2006-08-22
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10790415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Bill finally realizes what he wants





	What I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

“Why does this keep happening to me, kid?”

 

Hermione bristled at the casually tossed out ‘kid’, wanting to yell at him and slap him and _show_ him she was twenty-four years old and _not_ a silly kid anymore. Of course, she could probably strip right now and Bill would give her a blanket so she wouldn’t get cold. Sighing, she set about distracting him from his recent break-up, his eleventh in the past eight months.

 

“Honestly, Bill. You ask why every single time,” she said softly, trying not to show her frustration or demand ‘look at _me_!’. “It’s always the same answer. You’re too good for them. You consistently choose the most vapid, brainless creatures to date and you claim you’re in love within a few days. I, well, I think you’re simply in love with the idea of being _in love_ and the poor girls are only out for a shag with a handsome man.”

 

“You think I’m handsome?” he asked cheekily before taking another drink from the bottle that was less than half full now.

 

Rolling her eyes, she tried not to smile. “You know you’re good-looking, Bill. And women, well, some of them like the danger of your job and the way you look. They don’t give a knut that you’re kind, intelligent, loyal, and so bloody close to perfect it’s sickening.”

 

Knowing he was already quite pissed gave her the freedom to be honest. He wouldn’t remember much of anything she said by morning and, if he did, she’d blink at him innocently so he’d assume it was just the alcohol talking. He never remembered these nights. He’d find some tart, date her a few time, declare it as love, then be heartbroken when she ran the other way. And Hermione, well, she was always stuck picking up the pieces.

 

While, normally, she had no issues at all being the listener, offering advice to her many male friends, or just slapping them when they needed it, with Bill it was different. _He_ was different. It would be no lie to say she’d fancied Ron’s sexy older brother since she was a teen. He’d been so amazing with the hair and the earring and the lean muscular body that made her body heat up imagining it on top of her. One of her first naughty dreams had centered around him and Charlie, in fact. It wasn’t only his looks that drew her attention, though. He was truly a gentleman, charming and smart, considerate and hard-working.

When she’d been sent to Egypt by Gringotts nearly a year ago, she’d been excited at the idea of getting to know him better. She had never expected for the crush, a reminder of her childhood, to return nor had she expected it to slowly develop into love. It had, though, and now she was stuck loving a man who would rather date blonde slags and run to her for comfort than even look at her as being a sexual creature.

 

“’m nowhere near perfect, kid,” he muttered, his eyes not leaving hers. “I’m stubborn and opinionated. Also pretty daft and focused. Tend to not see things that are right in front of me until I’m knocked upside the head with the realization that maybe I’ve been wrong about love all along.”

 

“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” she declared in a firm voice, her cheeks turning red at his intense stare. “Cynthia was a brainless tart, just like the others. Blonde, brainless, and built is your typical sort of girl, after all. I don’t know why you can’t remember how horrible you feel when you’re sober again and steer clear of blondes for a while. I’m getting so tired of having to listen to you wax poetic about them during the first few dates then take care of you when they break your heart.”

 

“Haven’t had _enough_ to drink,” he informed her quietly. “Not for what I’m about to do. Need courage. Right.”

 

“Come on, heartbreaker,” she said as she stood. “You can sleep it off in the spare room again. With as much as you spend there, I daresay I should start charging you rent. You’d better be glad I love you, you stupid prat.”

 

“Do you?”

 

Startled, she looked at him and frowned. “Do I what?”

 

His tall frame gracefully rose from the sofa, the bottle of Firewhiskey getting put on the table carefully. “Do you love me?”

 

“You know I do,” Hermione replied softly. “Not that you’ll remember in the bloody morning, of course. You never remember…right, let’s get you to bed. You’ll wake up tomorrow with a headache, no memory of tonight, and ready to find another brainless blonde tart. To be so old, you never seem to learn.”

 

“I’m not drunk,” he drawled as he walked towards her. “Poured half the bottle out before coming in. Sneaky huh? I _knew_ there was something that I couldn’t remember, something that made my palms sweat and my heart jump even as it wouldn’t come to mind.”

 

“Oh God,” she whispered, her face losing its color as she realized she’d not noticed, so used to him arriving pissed and emotional that she hadn’t seen the gleam in his eyes that said he was solving a problem. “Bill, please just forget what I said. I didn’t mean, that is to say, fuck.”

 

“I’m not going to forget, Hermione,” he told her gently, his fingers moving along her jaw to raise her head. “I’ve wanted to hear that for months, you know? Brunette, brilliant, and beautiful. Knew I shouldn’t be thinking about you like that, shouldn’t be fantasizing about my baby brother’s best friend, but I couldn’t help falling in love with you. The other women, well, they were opposite you and I thought they’d make it go away. They never did, only made what I feel for you worse.”

 

“You’re emotional right now, Bill. You don’t know what you’re saying even if you’re _not_ drunk.”

 

“Bloody hell, woman!” he growled as he pulled her against him suddenly. “I know exactly what I’m saying, what I feel and want, and I’m tired of running from it because I think Mum will hex me silly for the many wicked things I want to do to you.”

 

“Please,” she whispered, not sure if she was asking him to let her go so they could pretend this didn’t happen or if she was asking him to take her and make her his. Logically, it was the second choice as she didn’t think she wanted to be anywhere but his arms.

 

“Make it better, Hermione,” he said with a sexy grin before his lips enveloped hers. His hands moved behind her, running along the curve of her back, gripping her arse, pulling her tighter against him. “Do you feel what you do to me?” he asked when he released her lips. His expression turned serious. “What do you want?”

 

“You. Always you,” she moaned softly before leaning up and kissing him again. He tasted of Firewhiskey and _Bill_ , a combination she couldn’t get enough of, whimpering as she moved closer, needing to touch. The kiss deepened, hands exploring, and she wasn’t quite sure how they ended up on the sofa with their clothes on the floor around them but she didn’t stop to question such pointless things. They moved together slowly, kissing and licking, caressing, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

 

“This is what I want, Hermione,” he panted in her ear. “You’re what I want…what I’ve wanted so bloody long. You’re mine.”

 

“Yes, Bill.” She nibbled on his neck, arching up to meet his thrusts, hand tangled in his long red hair. “I’m yours.”

The End  



End file.
